Page 133 of Fluke
I sigh, pressing my head against the pillow. Instead of meeting fluff, the back of my head hits the sofa.I’m buying her pillows and blankets for her birthday.
“I hate myself. That’s the only excuse,” I say.
Kerissa gets up from the other end of the couch and stretches her arms over her head.
“Nope. I think it’s the opposite,” she says. “I think you love yourself, as one should, and I think you’ve learned to protect yourself from things that hurt you. For example, I balk at passionfruit and toddlers. I’ve been traumatized by both. But you’ve been hurt by people using love as a weapon. Naturally, you’d build defenses.”
I just stare at her.Why does that make sense?
“I’m no therapist or anything,” she says. “But I would venture to say that you can’t just rip down the walls you’ve built over your whole life. It’ll take some time. But maybe you can think about it and be okay with not shouldering the whole thing yourself. That’s all Jess wants, Pip. He wants you to trust him enough to let him help carry the load.”
This coming from the girl who doesn’t believe in soulmates.
“I’m going to bed,” she says. “You can sleep with me if you want, like I said. If not, I’ll see you in the morning, but I’m sleeping in. Kisses.”
“Night, Kerissa.”
She closes her bedroom door behind her.
Is Kerissa right? Have I learned to protect myself to the extent that I’ll never be able to know love? Will I ever trust Jess with my heart?
Because I know I want to. But how?
How do I rip down walls that I erected to keep me safe from love—or a lack of it? Will I ever allow Jess to shoulder some of this shit? Why should I? Why should he?
I sigh, rolling onto my side—and not into Jess’s arms.
What have I done?
31
PIPPA
“I’m going to figure out how to fix this today,” I say, staring at myself in the mirror. “What are the mantras online that they have little kids repeat? I am brave. I am bold. I am beautiful. I am kind.” I pause. “I am not a fool. I am not a coward.”
I groan.That got off track.
There are bags under my eyes. I haven’t cried over this situation until late last night. I think I was numb. But when I left Kerissa’s in the early morning hours because I couldn’t sleep and walked in the door, the sight of the boxes piled around my apartment reminded me of what I could be doing. And where. And with whom.
I’ve tapped my bracelet on and off all morning to no avail. Jess hasn’t tapped me back. He didn’t text me good morning either, and I was too much of a chickenshit to text him first.
I hate that I’m this way. Proud, fearful, and uncertain.
Ironically, the only thing I feel happy, content, and certain about is that I love Jess.
My phone buzzes, and I leap for it, my heart pounding in my chest. “Please be you, Jess. Please.”
I glance at the screen.
Unknown: Hey, hey. It’s Banks.
I add the number to my contacts and sit on the edge of the bed.
Why is he texting me? Is something wrong?Shit.
Me: Hi.
Banks: I’ll give you fifty bucks to stop tapping that bracelet.
